


Meddle

by AnotherSongAnotherMile



Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: pre-trilogy fourtris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherSongAnotherMile/pseuds/AnotherSongAnotherMile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe the most selfless people in our society are the ones that don't label themselves as such. Through a chance meeting with her future instructor, Beatrice is shown the meaning of true selflessness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meddle

I try not to enjoy the scent of bananas and vanilla that wafts through our home too much. It's rare that I am able to help my mother bake something besides plain white yeast bread. However, this is a treat—a _special_ treat.

But it's not for us.

My mother smiles at me from where she chops walnuts on the other side of the kitchen as I pull the bread pans out of the oven. I set them onto the cooling racks on the counter that already contain a few dozen of the small, compact loaves.

My mouth waters at the aroma of the freshly baked goods. I can only imagine being lucky enough to savor the burst of flavors of each one—moist raisins, toasted nuts, cinnamon, and nutmeg. All these are things that we do not keep in our cupboards regularly, as they are all considered a delicacy and are therefore forbidden for personal use in our faction.

Father wouldn't even let me taste the batter. He said it would be selfish to take even one bite from the factionless, as if somehow homemade bread will help make up for the fact that these people have been blacklisted by society. Funny how the baked goods we've made for the homeless are considered too good for the people who'd spent the entire day purchasing and gathering the necessary ingredients for preparing them.

Caleb takes the finished loaves from the cooling rack and wraps them in plastic wrap before tucking them into one of the wicker baskets that sit on our kitchen table.

Watching him spend his entire weekend doing things for others and smiling all the while makes me feel guilty. I'm still tired, and would have enjoyed the extra sleep today, but instead I was up at 5:30 this morning making a trip to Amity with my mother to purchase overripe bananas from their tropical greenhouse.

My father says spending the weekend helping others is all a mandatory lesson in being selfless. As if the past 15 years of doing for every human being besides myself and being constantly reminded to always put my own needs second hasn't been enough.

I help my brother divide the rest of the loaves we had been baking this afternoon between the baskets.

I lift mine with a grunt once it is packed. The basket is hefty—probably a good 20 pounds—and I don't look forward to carrying it through the factionless sector of the city with my own weak arms.

Caleb lifts his with ease, smiling and looking eager to begin passing out the loaves to the needy.

"Don't deny a loaf to anyone," my father reminds me. "Usually those that look the least approachable are the ones who need the most help."

Biting my lip unsurely, I nod.

"You'll have Caleb with you. Don't worry," he tells me, his large hands clasped on my small shoulders.

Caleb and I take the bus to get to the factionless sector. After giving up our seats to a group of Erudite and offering the factionless man driving the bus a loaf, we make our way into the rundown part of the city.

"We should split up," Caleb tells me. "We can cover more ground that way and help more people."

"But Father told us to stick together," I say, my stomach twisting peculiarly as a man wearing fingerless gloves and who is drinking out of a brown paper bag stumbles by.

"Just because they're poor and out of luck doesn't mean they'll hurt you, Beatrice," Caleb scorns me as if I should know better. "Remember what Mother said about making opinions about people before you know them."

I do remember: It's selfish.

I frown as I heave my basket up on my arm. If I didn't know better, I'd say Caleb was wanting to get this over and done with just as much as I was. But no, he probably really does want to 'help more people' as he had insisted. Because being Abnegation is like second nature to my brother—he doesn't even have to think about it.

"Fine," I tell him. "We'll split up."

"I'll meet you back here in two hours," Caleb says, checking his watch. "We'll see how much we have left in our baskets and go from there."

* * *

I walk between the towering and long-abandoned buildings looking for signs of life. Finding a building with running water or electricity in the factionless part of the city is a challenge. There are a few that the Abnegation have set aside as shelters for families during the bitter winter months.

Very few of the factionless have homes to call their own, usually grouping into old warehouses that have long been out of use.

I hand a loaf to an elderly woman who stands hunched over in the middle of a vacant street. The old woman accepts the loaf with her knobby-knuckled hands without thanking me or even bothering to look me in the eye.

Members of the Abnegation wandering the streets of the factionless sector isn't an odd site—we've been coming here for years now to give to those who have so little. And while they welcome our food, clothing, and shelter with open arms, most factionless hold hostility against the factions who had rejected them in the past.

However, it's really hard to be rejected from Abnegation if you put any sort of effort into it at all. Those who end up leaving our faction do so of their own free will, usually because they are tired of living for everyone but themselves.

I may be too familiar with that feeling—more than I'm willing to admit to myself.

The sun has begun to sink down in the sky, reflecting a pinkish-orange hue over the soggier spots in the marsh where large puddles collect when I realize that it's time to meet back up with Caleb.

I still have a few loaves of bread left, but it shouldn't be hard to find someone to unload them on.

I'm almost tempted to taste one, but then I'll just spend the rest of the evening hating myself.

This is all so easy for my brother. Sometimes, I resent him for being able to act so selflessly without any effort when I question my existence in our faction every single day.

A year from now, when we are both 16, Caleb and I will have to publicly declare the faction in which we have chosen to live out the rest of our lives. It must be nice to know with certainty where you belong long before that time has even come.

The streets are darker now with the setting sun, as there are few working streetlights in this sector. I rely on what little light there is left available to prevent myself from plummeting into one of the many massive cracks in the pavement where I walk.

"Got something for me, princess?" a haggard voice asks me from the shadows as I pass a collapsed building that's remains have become something of a dumping ground for the factionless. It smells of human waste and rotten garbage and I wonder what possessed me to take this particular route.

A middle-aged man emerges from the shadows wearing a denim jacket that is much too baggy on him, his strangely grayish hair sticking out from beneath a dirty stocking cap riddled with holes. He has a greasy smile and an unshaven face and is the exact definition of someone my father labels as "the neediest."

The man is repulsive to me. He smells of the sort of intense body odor that comes from a pile of our school's basketball team's soiled uniforms after they ferment over the weekend. His hands are dirty with long, misshapen fingernails, looking as if he were just digging through the garbage pile only moments ago.

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he had been.

I don't want to speak to him; I don't even want to look at him. But yet, I am supposed to be helping him.

He approaches me slowly as I watch him with apprehension. Relax, I tell myself, he just wants something to eat.

The man grabs onto my basket a little too forcefully before pulling it towards himself and peering inside.

"You make these yourself?" he asks me with a semi-toothless grin.

I nod dumbly.

"Well, then I bet they're just delicious," he says, his light-blue eyes fixed on mine. "You're still just a girl."

Not answering him, my eyes glance over my shoulder to see if Caleb has returned. There's something about the man's tone that doesn't quite sit right.

"Are you waiting for your father?" he asks a little too smoothly.

"M-my brother," I finally manage to stutter out.

Grinning, he leans in close to me.

"If I had a daughter as young and pretty as you are, I'm sure I wouldn't let her go out and wander the streets alone. Someone could take advantage of her."

He gives me the sort of look that makes one's skin crawl.

My eyes connect with his for a split second before I toss the entire basket of bread at him and make a run for it.

I'm small with short legs, and not necessarily a fast runner, but my feet move as quickly as I can make them as I pump my arms in an effort to gain speed.

I can hear his footsteps growing louder behind me. He may be well into his 40's, but he's fast on his feet and manages to catch up with me in seconds.

His body collides into mine harshly, his momentum pummeling me to the hard concrete sidewalk below us. My right cheek bounces off the rough pavement and I fall unceremoniously on my hip. Pain from the fall radiates throughout my entire body, but all I can focus on is the heavy body above me.

"Hold still, princess," the man says, laughing, "It won't hurt a bit. Unless, of course, you like it that way."

His large, clammy hands pin either of my wrists above my head and he straddles me as I wriggle beneath him. I turn my head toward to the side and attempt to clamp my teeth down onto his forearm, but instead his hand meets my face with an astounding slap.

I blink back the tears that form in my eyes as he manages to pin both of my arms down with one of his hands.

"I got a fighter, huh?" he asks me with a crooked smile. "Didn't know you Stiffs had it in you."

"Caleb!" I scream for my brother so loudly that my voice cracks.

"Caleb!"

_Where are you Caleb?_

"Shut up," he warns. "Your brother ain't here."

Bile rises in my throat as the man gropes me through my shirt.

"No..." I choke out in between attempts to pull my arms free of his dominating grasp. "Let...Go!"

I finally manage to wriggle free a leg, bending it and kneeing towards his groin. A struggled breath escapes the man's lips at the contact, but his grip on me does not falter.

He manages to pin both of my legs down with his knees, and I realize that I'm overpowered—he's twice my weight and a good foot and a half taller than I am. A dirty factionless man who could be carrying God knows how many types of diseases is going to take me right here on the street, I realize.

"Please," I plead with him, hot tears beginning to trickle down my cheeks. "Please let me go."

Grunting, the man uses his free hand to grip my face before slamming my head back against the concrete. My vision blurs and I suddenly feel very dizzy, my arms and legs falling limp from the pain.

"That's what you get for busting my balls, little girl," he snarls into my ear, his hand snaking it's way beneath the plain gray Abnegation shirt that I wear. His palms are calloused and make my stomach twist as they grope me in places others haven't even seen, let alone touched.

"Don't worry," he hisses. "We're just getting started, princess," he promises, sending a chill down my spine.

His free hand has just begun to unsnap the top button on my slacks when all of his weight is lifted completely off of me with a sudden jerk.

For a second I think that Caleb has come to rescue me. But no; instead a dark figure—a tall, muscular boy cloaked in black—throws my attacker up against the wall of a nearby building, his fist connecting with the man's jaw.

I watch in shock the assault that takes place before me. I've never witnessed a person hit another human, let alone pummel him into a bloody pulp.

The boy is relentless, leaving the man falling to the ground and clutching his nose, his face now slick with blood that shines in the moonlight. After one last kick to the abdomen, the boy pulls the older man to his feet and pushes him roughly away. The man stumbles forth, clutching to the sides of buildings as he dizzily makes his way back down the alleyway from which he came as quickly as he's capable of doing in his condition.

And then a pair of piercing dark blue eyes are looking down at me.

The boy that saved me doesn't look too much older than myself, maybe 17 or 18. I recognize a tattoo that wraps around the side of his neck and the customary black clothing that the Dauntless wear.

"Y'okay?"

My head still pounding, I begin to sit up, and he reaches down, offering me his hand. I don't accept it—close human contact was awkward enough for me even _before_ the attempted rape.

I brace my palms against the sidewalk, sitting up so quickly that a bought of dizziness hits me.

"Easy," the boy tells me, bracing my shoulders to keep me from tipping over. "I saw him slam your head down. You could have a concussion."

I quickly shrug free form his grasp. It's too soon for a stranger to have his hands on me like that. I can still feel the factionless man's clammy hand inching up towards my breast, and I shudder at that thought.

"Hey," he says slowly. "I'm not going to hurt you, you know."

I do know. And if this boy—this complete _stranger_ —would've happened upon me a few minutes later, he wouldn't be dealing with just a concussed, badly shaken girl, he'd be dealing with a _rape_ victim.

With that thought I burst into tears. He stares at me, a bit in shock. He actually seems very surprised that something like this would be upsetting to me. Like I was just supposed to get up off the ground and be on my way. But this is the way the Dauntless operate, I suppose. They don't allow anyone or anything to slow them down for too long.

"What's going on here?" Caleb's voice asks from down the street and he quickens his pace a bit—without running, of course—to meet up with us.

"Beatrice, what happened to you?" he asks me, his dark brows drawing together. He looks at the boy kneeling at my side. "What did you do to my sister?"

His question infuriates me so much that I do manage to pull myself to my feet, the Dauntless boy bracing my elbow when I almost slump back down to the ground. His grip is solid and reassuring; _powerful_ , as my mother would say.

Anger burning in my eyes, I cut the distance between myself and my brother.

"Where were you?" I demand, still crying. "You were supposed to be back here half an hour ago!"

His mouth gapes slightly and he holds up his empty bread basket for me to see.

"I only had a few left," he tells me. "I wanted to get rid of them before I walked all the way back here. Beatrice, where is your basket?" he adds, his voice disciplinary.

Biting my lip, my face scrunches up awkwardly before I take a step forward and shove him roughly.

The action does little to jostle my much taller older brother, but his mouth gapes slightly as he takes a couple of steps away from me.

We're not supposed to hit or shove anyone in Abnegation. Even as children, Caleb and I never put our hands on one another, but I'm so angry with him right now that I can't help myself.

"Dad told us to stick together!" I scream. "You were supposed to look out for me!" I choke.

Caleb shakes his head at me. "I don't-I don't understand," he stutters, confused.

"She was attacked," the Dauntless boy interrupts. "A factionless man had her pinned, he was going to..."

Clearing his throat, the boy's eyes meet my brother's with the implication of what almost happened.

No one wants to say it. I don't even want to think it.

"Good God!" Caleb exclaims in vain, which is something that our father would most certainly punish him for if he were here. "Beatrice, are you okay?" he asks me with wide eyes.

I cross my arms over my chest, nodding. Tears continue to trickle down my face, which still burns with humiliation over what had just happened me. I've never felt so weak and vulnerable in my entire life.

"She hit her head pretty hard," my rescuer informs him. "You should probably have her looked at. And don't let your little sister wander the factionless sector alone after dusk anymore," he adds. "Anyone can tell you that it's not safe here at night."

He's almost patronizing in his tone, turning on his heel to leave as if he hadn't just saved me. Caleb and I watch the outline of the boy's figure disappear down the darkened street before exchanging a glance towards each other.

"The rest of the bread's down the alleyway," I tell him nervously. I don't want to go back there, but I know that Caleb probably doesn't want perfectly good food that could feed the hungry to go to waste.

"Just leave it," Caleb surprises me by saying as he directs me back towards the bus stop.

"You won't say anything to our parents about this?" I ask him.

"No," he agrees. "It wouldn't do any good."

* * *

I think about the Dauntless boy with the neck tattoo and the blue eyes later that night as I dress for bed and fall between its sheets. He hadn't had to think twice about jumping into a fight and saving my life when Caleb was nowhere to be found

The boy shouldn't have felt like he had to be the one to save me; he really didn't have to get involved at all. Certainly his Dauntless parents didn't send him out on a mission to help small Abnegation girls in distress today. There was no one overseeing that he was doing the right thing, but he did it anyway.

I've been led to believe throughout my life that I need to abide by my parents and rely on them to show me how to live a life of abnegation. But maybe the most selfless people in our society are the ones that don't label themselves as such.


End file.
